End Game
by Kim Smuga
Summary: Sequel to Conversations Over a Go Board contains Hikaru's answer to Akira's question but not till Chapter 6
1. Chapter 1

_Authors Notes: This is the sequel to Conversations over a Go Board, although familiarity with that fic is not required. Thanks for all the great comments I received for that story and I hope you enjoy this one as well._

_Disclaimer - these are not my characters, this is not my world or set up, all credit, thanks and apologies go to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi._

_**Chapter 1**_

Toya Akira snored.

Hikaru still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea. But the proof, emanating noisily from his bed, was beyond reproach. He stared at the darkened ceiling and tried to ignore the sawmill sound.

_You think you know a person_, he mused. Toya, who never had a wrinkle in his suit, never slurped his ramen, and was a perfect gentleman to everyone, snored._ He's gay, too,_ added an inner voice that Hikaru was trying even more valiantly to ignore, _and he's in love with you._

Hikaru rolled to his side to stare at the feet of his goban. While the portable futon was comfortable, he doubted he'd get any sleep tonight.

At least they could still play go, thought Hikaru, remembering their game from earlier in the evening. It had been a challenge with some interesting stone patterns. Game analysis had lead to a heated discussion culminating with Toya announcing that he was leaving and storming down the stairs. which gave rise to a whole new series of arguments involving the lateness of the night, hospitality, train schedules, and exactly who was being the most pigheaded and immature. Out of exhaustion, they compromised on Hikaru being the most pigheaded and Toya grudgingly spending the night. His rival hadn't wanted to take Hikaru's bed either, but Hikaru had pulled the my-mother-would-throw-a-fit-if-I-let-you-sleep-on-the-floor trump card and even Toya had acknowledged the logic in that.

It had been reassuring, the naturalness of their interactions. It was as if the events of the afternoon had never happened, as if they'd never come to the agreement.

The agreement - Toya would wait for Hikaru to make up his mind. Up to two years, he'd promised. _Which means,_ the inner voice taunted him, _you have two years before you turn him down and he never speaks to you again._

Because guys just didn't get together with other guys. Or, reasoned Hikaru, even if some guys apparently did, it wasn't the way it usually played out, and he certainly had never caught himself doing double takes at hot men on the street. He didn't even know what would make a guy hot.

So, eventually, he was just going to have to tell Toya thanks but no thanks, not interested, better luck next time. Hikaru wasn't looking forward to that day, and not just because it would be the end to their friendship. Toya would be hurt - like today, just before Hikaru had chased after him. The expression on Toya's face was like the time Hikaru announced he was quitting go. No, worse.

Maybe Toya would fall for someone else and Hikaru would be off the hook. The thought gave Hikaru hope, it wasn't as if Toya was ugly.

Hikaru sat up to look at Toya. His eyes had long since adjusted to the dark and he could make out every feature of Toya's profile. Funny, Toya looked like a completely different person when he was asleep. His usually determined jaw hung slightly open, distorting his face. Not in a bad way, Hikaru noted. Rather, Toya's cheekbones seemed less pronounced and with his closed eyes he resembled some master doll maker's prize creation. The waking Toya was never relaxed like this.

A low rumbling sound echoed through the room and Hikaru had to smother his laughter in his pillow. If he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, he'd at least think happy thoughts, like the look on Toya's face tomorrow when Hikaru chastised him for snoring.

* * *

Akari studied the go board, contemplating her next move. On one level, it hardly mattered where she'd place the stone, Hikaru was sure to win. But these tutoring games weren't simply a ploy to spend time with her secret crush; they were a chance to impress on him that she was more than a silly school-chum. She wasn't sure if respect would lead to romance, but it was the only in she had. 

_Pa-ching_. She looked to Hikaru. His mood had been distracted when he first arrived, but now he was completely focused on the pattern of the stones. No, it was something more, even as a sixth grader, Hikaru had been single minded when playing go.

Just now, he looked his full eighteen years, as opposed to how she usually saw him, a fifteen year old with really long legs. Could it be something in his face? Whatever the cause of the change, Akari decided she approved it.

"Why did you play such a stu -" Hikaru started, clamping his mouth shut, "I meant to say, exactly why did you put your stone there?"

He looked expectantly at her. Akari kept her face expressionless, not wanting to give anything away.

"Or," Hikaru tried again, "should I have said: that's an interesting choice, could you please explain your strategy?"

Akari sighed and sat back from the board. "I don't like either of them. With the first it's obvious that you thought it was a stupid move, and the second sounds condescending." explained Akari, trying to make her own criticism as supportive as possible. It wasn't working, Hikaru was bristling. "Don't you think it would be better for them to just play out the move and let your pupil see for themselves where they went wrong?"

"But it's such a stupid move, Akari. I mean, I've got an opening here," he pointed with his fan, "to get the whole corner, no contest. But if you were to counter it here, it could still go either way, all the way up till yose. Your move is such an elementary mistake, any book could explain it. A person who doesn't understand go at this level shouldn't be wasting their money paying a pro to tutor them."

Akari tried to hide her smile. She was supposed to be the stern sensei here, guiding Hikaru on the proper way to teach go, not to encourage him to rant. But he was just too endearing, the way he was getting into the whole tutoring thing.

Hikaru had come to her several months ago, quite upset. (The go instructor) had arranged for Hikaru to help with the introductory classes at his school, and, in Hikaru's opinion, it wasn't going well.

"It's like they don't even see the simplest patterns, Akari, and they never seem to remember the techniques that I've shown them. I can't believe they're all that dumb, I mean one of the guys is a medical doctor. I'm just a crummy teacher. That's the only explanation."

"Well," Akari had replied, secretly thrilled that he had come to her with this problem, never mind that her class was after the one that Hikaru taught, "Maybe we could play a game together and I could critique you on your teaching style. This way you could get insight into how your pupils think. I could even make a whole bunch of mistakes on purpose, to give you practice giving advice."

Her words had immediate effect on Hikaru's mood.

"Yeah, that might be just what I need. Oh, and don't worry about trying to make mistakes, the way you usually play should work fine."

They'd spent the first few sessions working on Hikaru's tact and politeness. Sensei had noticed the results almost immediately. So, now every Sunday afternoon they'd play for several hours. Akari was grateful for the privilege, the only other person Hikaru played with such regularity was Toya Akira. And none of her matches had ended in a screaming fit.

"A lot of people," Akari said in response to Hikaru's comment "are uncomfortable learning from books."

"Or think they can learn the basics faster if they're paying money to a professional. Not that I should complain."

"It is how go players gets paid," Akari agreed, "At least until they start winning titles."

"That's true," said Hikaru, "but it's more. I mean, we have to have people interested in the game, even if they only play it at home or in the salons. And because I'm a professional, it's like I'm kind of a goodwill ambassador."

Akari's heart skipped a beat. It was the little glimpses of Hikaru's growing sense of responsibility that made her all the more determined to make him see her as a potential girlfriend.

"I just need to be able to evaluate people better." Hikaru went on, "I need to be able to see if someone's just starting the game and needs lots of encouragement or if they're really into the game and need as much of a challenge as possible. Unfortunately, I'm pretty bad at reading people."

"Oh no, Hikaru. I think you're getting much better."

"If recent experience is a guideline, I have a long ways to go."

"Huh?"

Hikaru had an introspective, unusual expression for him. At first it seemed to convey some secret meaning, then it almost looked guilty. "I don't want to bother you with my problems," he said simply.

"Hikaru, we've been friends since kindergarten! Of course you can tell me your problems." _And I'm not backing down until you do_.

Hikaru must have sensed her resolution.

"It's just . . . Well, I have . . . this friend." Hikaru wasn't making eye contact, but he was talking, "And he recently found out that his friend was kind of . . . secretly in love with him. Only my friend's not really interested, so he's trying to think of a gentle way of turn the other person down, and he's not sure how."

It was spoken in all in vague terms, but Akari had read enough Ribbon comics over the course of her life to recognize that the friend must be Hikaru himself. So, he had finally realized that she had a crush on him. It was embarrassing, but also a potential opportunity that she couldn't slip away.

"How can your friend be sure he's not interested? I mean, he didn't even know about this love until just now. Would it hurt him to wait a bit, just to be sure?"

"For what?" asked Hikaru, complete incomprehension on his face.

"In case he's wrong about not being love. What if he changes his mind?"

"Oh, I don't think he's going to change his mind."

"That attitude is just . . . dumb." Not constructive criticism by any means, but it was infuriating how Hikaru, who had as far as Akari was aware, zero experience in matters of the heart, could be so pig headed about this. "Has your _friend_ ever been in love before? How can he be certain that he's not at least partially in love now? And even if he isn't, friendships can grow into love, if given half a chance."

She could tell by his looks that he wasn't getting any of this. Time to pull out the big guns.

"Even you, the talented Shindo Hikaru, at one point didn't even know what a go board was. You were sure you couldn't be interested in go. What if you had never played your first game? You would have given up on the most important thing in your life. And you wouldn't even have known it."

A while back, Akari had figured out that if she wanted to drive a point home to Hikaru, she had to use a go analogy. Looking at Hikaru's rapt eyes, she knew the technique had once again worked.

"But, with go, you just play. How can I, I mean, my, my friend, find out?"

"Easy. Go on a date."

"What?"

"It's no big deal, Hikaru. Just dinner, a movie, maybe a walk in the park afterwards. Spending time with another person on a date is a great way to see if there are feelings there. And if there aren't, then it's only one wasted night. So, you see this would be a very good option for your friend to consider, don't you think?"

"Yeah, you might have a point there. I'll mention it to him."

It wasn't a brush off, Akari could see the cogs turning in Hikaru's brain, albeit very slowly.

Several months ago, in a conversation with, of all people, Toya Akira, she had promised herself not to give up chasing after Hikaru. Now was the time to follow through with the resolution. Using more courage than she thought herself capable, Akari took a deep breath and said:

"Also mention that I'm free on Saturday and he could pick me up anytime."

There, she'd actually said it. She met Hikaru's eyes expecting to see embarrassment, or indignation, but instead there was an expression she could only describe as incomprehension. What if there really was a friend?

Fine then, she'd been mortified already. Nothing to do but see if she could talk her way into a date.

"Come on Hikaru, it's obvious you were talking about yourself."

"What? No way. I wasn't - "

"Yes, you were. Is there someone besides me who has a crush on you?"

That was a possibility she hadn't considered. Could it be that Nase girl, the one that actually knew how to play go? Her heart sank at just the possibility.

"No! I mean, no, I mean," Hikaru sighed loudly and forced a smile, "okay, I'll see you on Saturday."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer - these are not my characters, this is not my world or set up, all credit, thanks and apologies go to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi._

_**Chapter 2**_

He had a date. Hikaru let the thought roll around in his brain. He'd always assumed he'd end up on a date at some point and as Akari was the only girl he hung out with any regularity, it should come as no surprise that she'd ended up as his partner.

According to comments made by old class mates, the worst part of the date was getting up the courage to ask the girl, the threat of rejection and humiliation plaguing even the notorious cool guys. Hikaru supposed he should count himself lucky that Akari had gone to the effort of asking him out.

No, he should be counting himself lucky that she only saw through half of his problem. Which moronic brain cells had come up with the "I have a friend" scenario? He should have told her that Waya needed help avoiding Ochi's advances. Or even better, Hikaru shouldn't have told her anything at all.

Problem was, he hated keeping secrets. It wasn't in his nature. Nor, according to everyone that knew him, were tact and being perceptive to other's emotions. Which was why it had been a relief when Akari had asked him to tell her his troubles. She was a girl, and hence an expert in the emotion business. Plus, Hikaru knew from experience that Akari would have pestered him until he relented to whatever she wanted. Come to think of it, why hadn't she forced him into a date years ago?

Part of him was glad he'd spoken about his problem. Before it had almost seemed a figment of his imagination. Now it was real, solid. And Akari had even managed to give him some good advice. Now, what exactly had she been saying?

* * *

It wasn't that they spent all their time playing go, reasoned Isumi as he placed a white stone on the board. Originally, Shindo had come over to the apartment that Isumi and Waya shared in order for Waya to show off his new computer.

It had arrived the previous day in two large boxes, featuring a numerous images of caucasians in various states of open mouth ecstasy while they played games and compiled spreadsheets. At least that's what Isumi thought they were doing. The text was in English, a language of no real use to a professional go player. The online store Waya had ordered it from promised that the manual was multilingual, and indeed the set up instructions were in English, French, German, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Chinese, Korean, and something only vaguely resembling Japanese. - "To be set your lovely computer, please follow as read" they began. Even better, the machine seemed to have shipped with only a single power cord. Undeterred, Waya had gone shopping and dragged Shindo over, confiding in Isumi that Shindo knew more about computers than he let on.

The setting up of the computer had gone reasonably well, although Waya's desk was obviously sagging under the weight of the monitor. Why Waya needed something with such high resolution when all he played was online go was beyond Isumi. When they turned on the machine they were greeted with with an impressive animated movie, the point of which was lost on them as it was all in English, as was the text that appeared on screen.

Waya insisted that there was a way of switching the language over to Japanese. Isumi watched until Waya's cursing and his own desire to point out that perhaps there was a reason why the computer was so inexpensive, drove him over to the go board. Witnessing Shindo's habit of reaching out and pressing keys at random had caused Isumi to suggest a game.

They played to the sounds of annoyed mouse clicking in the background and Isumi marveled, as he always did, at how much Shindo had improved since they last played. Even in his Insei days, Shindo had been a devil when it came to fighting for territories. You had to be completely aware of your holdings, otherwise he'd pick away at your lead, one stone at a time. But such skills were hardly rare, especially when one played professionals.

Rather, what set Shindo apart from even mid rank players were the almost clairvoyant moments when he predicted the future shape of the board, and used insignificant moves to trap and confound his opponents. They weren't common stone patterns, so either Shindo had access to a whole slew of go games that the rest of them didn't or he was coming up with them on his own. Those moments of genius were becoming almost regular, Isumi noted as he studied his current disadvantage.

Or maybe, and this was a disturbing thought, Shindo had always had the ability to see such patterns, and he was just getting better at leading his opponents into his traps. _Pay attention to the game,_ Isumi reminded himself. Maybe Yaeko-chan was right about his id undermining his play, or was that his superego?

With a final curse that showed he remembered something from English class, Waya came to down sit beside him. He looked in a particularly foul mood. It would pass, so long as no one actually provoked him. Too bad provoking came so naturally to Shindo.

"I hear," said Shindo in a voice that was trying to sound offhand and failing, "that Toya's pretty good at English, want me to call him over?"

Waya's nostrils flared, but he managed to keep his voice relatively even as he said, "Please tell me you're winning, Isumi."

"Fraid not, he's building up here, so I'll have to defend. And when I play here," he indicated the spot, "he'll move in here to capture all this territory. Am I right?"

Shindo nodded, "There's still a way for you to get out of it."

"Where?" asked Isumi, he'd been trying to find a way out for five moves.

"Yeah," added Waya. There was a relieved look on his face which could be interpreted as a desire to see Shindo defeated, but Isumi thought it came from an excuse to ignore his computer.

"Here."

"What? But, he'll loose these five stones,"

"Yeah, but he doesn't he'll loose all eight. This way he's only down by three."

Which, against Shindo, especially with yose still to be played out, was a lot. Still, if Shindo though there was still a chance. . . Isumi studied the board looking for an inventive Shindo opening.

"It's too much," declared Waya, "You'd have to be the former Meijin to find a way out of that."

"Or his son." muttered Shindo, indicating how his informal matches against his rival must be going.

"Yeah, Toya's just the best at everything." Waya's face was blank, but Isumi could hear the sneer in his voice. Even on a good day, Waya could handle maybe two Toya references an hour, and, after a full morning of struggling with his computer, today wasn't a good day.

"Toya would find a way to win this game." Shindo insisted.

Shindo bickered socially, it was his equivalent of small talk. The reason why he still had friends, good friends even, was that he seemed incapable of holding a grudge for longer than an hour. Isumi chalked it up to Shindo's easy going nature. But, as Yaeko-chan was fond of pointing out, everyone had buttons, and most of Shindo's revolved around Toya Akira.

"Just because you're constantly loosing to him doesn't mean he's invincible."

Shindo's eyes dropped, and his cheeks went pink. Waya, realizing he'd gone to far, added, "I mean, it's so far along in the game. These other two corners are already decided. To get four stones off of you . . . I'd like to see such a game."

"Yeah," said a mollified Shindo, "It wouldn't be easy. I wonder where Toya would play. Hey, I'm playing him this Wednesday. Want to come watch. We could play from this point on."

Waya studied the board once more and said in a genuine tone. "I think I will. And if Toya can pull out even a tie, I'll treat you to a ramen dinner."

"All right. And if I win, I'll buy dinner. Oh, you can come too, Isumi."

"I'd like to, but -"

"But Isumi has a date." added Waya in a singsongy manner, "With Mitanti-chan." He seemed disappointed when Isumi merely rolled his eyes.

"A date?" Shindo seemed unusually interested, "What are you going to do?"

"A stroll in the moonlight," said Waya, "in which she'll look up into Isumi's eyes and say, 'Oh please, tell me more about this wonderful game of go.'"

"She's interested in go?" ask Shindo, failing to catch the irony.

"The first two dates only," said Waya, "Now she carries a romance novel in her purse to pull out whenever Isumi and I play a game."

"Oh," said Shindo, looking unsure, "that's too bad."

Isumi caught Waya smiling for the first time since he powered on his computer. Shindo wasn't much good at predicting traps outside of a go game. Maybe a bit of good natured Shindo baiting was what Waya needed to lift his mood.

"Or would be if Isumi wasn't getting other stuff out of the arrangement."

"Like what?" asked Shindo with wide eye innocence.

"Like sex." said the ever blunt Waya.

"Waya!" Isumi shouted, despite himself. Wasn't Shindo supposed to be the source of amusement here?

"What?" asked a none too innocent Waya. "That's why you keep going out with her, right?"

"That's not funny."

"What's not funny is the way she's always hanging around doing her psychoanalyzing schtick. Apparently" Waya turned to address Shindo, "I'm manic depressive with a paranoid complex. She says it's all fun and games for me now, but later on I'm going to need medication. Name one PG rated thing she's good for."

Isumi could mention that that Yaeko was a whiz at configuring trashed computers, a necessary skill when working at an internet cafe, but Waya didn't deserve that information just yet. Instead Isumi said:

"She's a good cook. I've never heard you turn down a meal from her."

It was just enough of a joke to take the edge off the conversation. Waya gave a half smile and nodded.

"Well, all right, I'll give you that. She's good for two things then. That's probably the best that you can expect from a girl."

"Really?" asked Shindo.

"Really what?" was Waya's reply.

"Is that really all you can expect from a girlfriend?"

Shindo had one of his "They play go in Korea?" looks. Yaeko-chan had diagnosed Shindo as an idiot savant, but Isumi just pegged him as clueless. Very clueless.

"Pretty much. If you're really lucky, you'll find one that will wash your back and clean out your ears," said Waya.

He kept his face serious, even when Shindo nodded, like he'd just been given sage advice. Very, very clueless. As the older, more responsible male, Isumi decided he'd better step in. Otherwise Shindo was going to end up offending any potential girlfriend.

"Waya, knock it off. Shindo, there's a lot more to a relationship. There's companionship, and talking, shared experiences . . ." This sounded much better when Yaeko explained it. Of course, she was specializing in marriage counseling. "Look at other couples, like, um, your parents."

If it was possible, Shindo's face had gotten more confused.

"I mean," said Isumi, not sure why he had to explain this, "When your father gets home from work and you all have dinner together. You guys talk and all?"

"Dad usually works late so Mom just leaves his dinner in the oven."

"And afterwards?"

"Mom draws a bath for Dad. Then he watches TV."

"How about weekends?" Isumi asked with morbid curiosity.

"Mom usually spends weekends with my grandfather, to help him out with the housework. And that's when Dad's community baseball team practices and has games."

"Mornings?" Isumi couldn't stop himself from prying. It must be Yaeko's bad influence.

"Dad's not a morning person. He's kind of monosyllabic until he's had his second cup of coffee and then he has to run to catch the train."

"Typical Japanese household," said Waya, "does he hide behind the newspaper at the breakfast table?" Shindo nodded.

"Your parents talk all the time." Isumi pointed out.

"Yeah, about the price of beans and at what point of over ripeness the peaches should go on sale." Waya's parents ran a grocery store together.

"Well my parents do volunteer work together. And Mitani Yaeko's parents play mixed doubles tennis. And" Isumi was aware that he was running out of long term relationships, "look at Toya Akira's mother, she's traveling around China with her husband."

"But it's not like she plays go." said Waya.

"Even if she did, she'd never be able to play at the Toya-sensei's level." Finding a mate that could play go was something Isumi had given up long ago. There weren't many professional female go players, and most were married or old.

"How come you're so interested in women all of a sudden, Shindo?" asked Waya.

"My friend . . . I mean, I . . ." Shindo looked uncertain, "have a date."

Isumi hadn't known Waya's face could hold such a large smile.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer - these are not my characters, this is not my world or set up, all credit, thanks and apologies go to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi._

_**Chapter 3**_

"It's not a real win," said Kitajima-san, even more arrogantly than usual. "Considering they started playing mid game, it was more of an exercise than anything else."

_I never claimed it was a win,_ thought Hikaru, but he didn't bother defending himself. He'd come to the conclusion that the old codger came to the salon solely to berate him. By this point everyone including Hikaru had gotten used to his tirades. This was the first time for Waya, however.

"If there was no chance of him winning," said Waya, "then Toya-san would have said so from the beginning. He tried to retake the territory, and Shindo-san stopped him every time."

There was a righteousness to Waya's statement. Hikaru wasn't sure if came from standing up for a friend or from his long-term animosity towards Toya Akira. Either way, there was going to be a shouting match.

"Toya-sensei is too polite to Shindo-kun." Kitajima-san began and Hikaru did his best to tune the argument out.

"Amazing that it's not us, for once," he said.

Toya gave a wry smile, but his eyes were still on the finished game. He'd been acting somewhat distant all evening. Hikaru wondered if it was all the unresolved business from last week, or Waya's unexpected presence, or maybe Toya was just picking up Hikaru's own discomfort.

"Isumi-san could have stopped your advance if he had played here," Toya pointed to the board.

"No," Hikaru said, "I would have countered, see, he'd still have to play there."

"But it's so in your style to play a move like that. I would have known you were up to something."

"Yeah, and how often do we play?"

"I'm glad we can still play like this," Toya was giving him a genuine smile. Just to their right, insults were being hurtled with abandonment, even Ichikawa had joined in. Hikaru, Toya, and their game were forgotten, they might as well as be in a salon by themselves.

"Well, of course we can still play. We're . . . friends, after all." Hikaru wasn't sure why he hadn't said rivals. They certainly hadn't stopped being rivals, but it seemed a bit harsh to imply that rival was all they were.

"My mother and father are throwing a party this Saturday." said Toya as he continued to study the board. "It's a cocktail sort of thing, but come evening it will have separated into go and non go players, so if you'd like, you could come by and play a game or two."

His tone was casual, but Hikaru knew Toya's style as well. Now would be a good time to mention his date with Akari. To make sure that Toya understood that it just sort of happened and that he shouldn't take it personally either way. Hikaru would feel like a heel if Toya found out through other channels, like, say, from Waya and his big mouth.

"I, well, have . . . plans." mumbled Hikaru.

"Alright." said Toya, "Some other time."

_Chicken!_ Hikaru had told Waya. Nothing Toya could say could compare to that round of teasing.

"Shall we play a full game?" asked Toya.

Hikaru nodded and made to clear the board.

"Wait," said Toya, and his hand shot out, catching Hikaru's, "That stone, there," he pointed to the one Hikaru had just been about to move. "When you placed it there, One, two . . . six moves into the game, you weren't setting up your trap then, were you?"

"I -," Toya was still holding onto his hand.

"Because it all starts with this stone. And it makes sense that Isumi-san would just have kept playing over here. That's the natural opening, but with this choice, it all . . ." Toya's brows furrowed and his eyes darted over the board.

He was totally focused on the stones now. Hikaru was secretly thrilled that Toya had recognized the play and was curious to see where Toya would have countered the move. To point out that they were still holding hands would only distract him. Hikaru kept still, barely even breathing.

"It's subtle. Remarkably subtle." Toya said, "Oh, sorry." he added and released his grip. His eyes never left the board and its pattern of stones.

Toya's hand had been dry, but warm. Hikaru could still feel its imprint on his skin. It felt ... odd.

* * *

"Waya-san? What are you doing down there?" How could such a soft spoken voice grate so perfectly on a person's nerves?

Waya Yoshitaka, currently in stealth mode, jumped forward, not a particularly good direction when your nose is pressed up against glass._ Ouch! _ On the other side of the glass a fish with a lopsided face swam by, he had a sort of "Why me" expression that Yoshitaka felt genuine empathy with.

The source of Yoshitaka's frustration crouched down beside him and peered into the tank.

"Is there a particular fish you're staring at down here?" asked Toya Akira. "Most of the fish seem to be swimming above the coral."

Did he want a medal or something for stating the obvious? The coral, while not attracting any fish, created an excellent spying spot, open enough to follow two particular aquarium patrons while being enough of an obstruction so that Yoshitaka wouldn't be noticed in turn. Unless someone was walking up behind him. Which, according to Shindo's version of events, was what Toya was best at, after go, of course.

"What are you doing here, Toya-san?" Yoshitaka kept his voice casual. There was no reason to feel intimidated - take away his go abilities and Toya was just regular guy. He was younger than Shindo, for crying out loud.

"Ogata-sensei recommended I come see the new freshwater tank. I had a tutoring session nearby and decided to stop in. You?"

"I've always found fish fascinating." Yoshitaka lied.

"Really?" Toya's voice was mild, but his eyes narrowed slightly, "You'll have to mention that to Ogata. You know, he's designing a tank filled only with black and white fish. Have you seen sea-dragon tank over here?"

Toya made to stand, but Yoshitaka grabbed his arm and dragged him back down.

"Don't. They'll see you."

"Who?" Toya was looking around, but he at least had the sense to stay down.

"Shindo . . ." Yoshitaka's voice trailed off. It was just like Toya Akira to spoil his well laid plan.

Toya's eyes went wide as it all connected in his brain. "You're hiding- What are you playing some sort of tag?" His eyes dropped to see Yoshitaka's military print shirt, "Aren't you a bit old to be playing commando?"

_He's lecturing me! _It was enough to make Yoshitaka see red. And who was he accusing of juvenile behavior? Go Weekly wasn't running editorial cartoons of Shindo and Yoshitaka in shouting matches. But of course Toya could get away with such shenanigans because, as long as it didn't involve Shindo, he was the very picture of good manners and grace.

"Shindo doesn't know I'm here. I'm spying on him and his date." Not the most mature of activities, but at least Toya wouldn't think they were running about with squirt pistols.

"Date?" The arrogant, know-it-all look dropped from Toya's face. Yoshitaka didn't let his smirk show, but that was how he was feeling on the inside.

It was frustrating how everyone thought of Toya as Shindo's new bestest friend. Yoshitaka had even been asked by Isumi if it bothered him that the two hung out all the time. All they did was play go. And, when Shindo actually had something on his mind, he still came to Yoshitaka.

"Yeah, date." Yoshitaka drawled, "With this Fujisaki girl. Personally, I think she strong armed him into it. He didn't even have a clue what to do on a date, had to come to me. They've been to the ice cream parlor and after this they're going to have a long walk on the beach."

"You suggested that to Shindo?" Toya was giving him a quizzical look. He looked again at Yoshitaka's apparel. "It seems kind of like middle school girl's taste to me."

"I took a girl out on such a date, and she loved it." And Morisata's daughter was in tenth grade now, hardly a middle schooler, although Yoshitaka didn't need to mention that. Maybe he didn't have much experience dating, but Yoshitaka was confident it was better than Toya's record.

"Apologies," said Toya, he wasn't making any move to leave, Yoshitaka noticed. "So, how's the date going?"

It wasn't an offhanded comment, Yoshitaka noted. Toya Akira was interested. Probably the rival obsession thing. You only needed to mention Toya and Shindo's ears would perk up.

"Oh, Shindo's been making a regular mess of it. He was late, for starters. And he made a comment about Fujisaki getting fat from all the ice cream she ordered. Then he almost didn't have enough to cover the cost of entrance tickets to the aquarium, even after I told him how much it would be."

"Not likely to be a second date?" Toya hedged.

"With any other girl, sure. But look at her."

Toya did. It felt good to be the knowledgeable one.

"She's holding his hand. And she's all smiles and 'Hikaru look at this, Hikaru look at that!'"

"Well, they are childhood friends," said Toya, almost dismissively, "She's probably used to his behavior."

"Yeah, if she hadn't found a way to cope with him, she'd have been gone a long time ago. Want to bet we're looking at the future Mrs. Shindo?"

Toya didn't answer, so Yoshitaka continued.

"She's not bad looking. Not really pretty or anything, but she can put up with Shindo. How many other potential mates could do that? And she even plays go. She's on her high school team and everything. When you look at it that way, Shindo's pretty lucky."

"Look, they're leaving." Toya's voice was clipped and he started walking off briskly. He had that predatory look in his eyes, the kind he got when playing go. Yoshitaka said nothing, but followed him.

Toya was a lot more stealthy than Yoshitaka, that was certain. The boy had a way of pacing his walk so he was just far enough away not to be noticed, but he never really lost track of the couple. Even when the two took a side route to the beach, passing through some of Tokyo's narrower streets. No wonder the guy could sneak up on anyone. Yoshitaka would love to pass this bit of information onto Shindo, although under the circumstances that wasn't likely.

Suddenly, Toya's hand shot up, halting Yoshitaka in his tracks. Toya pointed up to the rounded mirror at the corner, the sort that allowed you to see the approaching car before it hit you. It was positioned just right to see Shindo and Fujisaki. They were even close enough to make out what the two were saying.

"You know," Shindo was saying, "How you said there wouldn't be any hard feelings, if I told you this date thing wasn't working out?"

"But, I, thought we were having a good time."

"I . . ." Shindo's hand rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Why, Hikaru? Why isn't it working?"

There was a long pause. _Don't be an idiot, Shindo! _ Yoshitaka wanted to shout it out.

"I like you, Akari." Shindo's usually boisterous voice was pitched so low, Yoshitaka had to strain to hear him. Besides him, Toya was equally silent, "I just don't like you in the way you like me. And you deserve someone to like you in that way."

"Well, at least I got my one date with you, Hikaru." Fujisaki's voice had that odd timbre that girls' voices got when they were close to bawling their eyes out. Not that Yoshitaka had ever made a girl cry, outside of a few insei that he had throughly pummeled back in the day.

"I'm sorry. Look, we can still go to the beach."

"No," Fujisaki shook her head, "That's okay. But, there is something . . . You don't have to . . ."

"What?"

"Could I, could we, kiss? It's not for real, I mean, it's just . . . You don't have to. It's stupid -"

"No, Akari, it's okay."

And they did. Waya's eyes nearly popped out of his head. It wasn't a bad kiss, either. Nothing compared to the lip and tongue action he'd seen when he accidently walked in on Isumi and Mitani, but it lasted a good couple of seconds and Shindo kept his eyes closed.

Waya turned to see what Toya was making of it all, but the boy had vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer - these are not my characters, this is not my world or set up, all credit, thanks and apologies go to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi._

_**Chapter 4**_

Hikaru's heart was pounding as he raced up the stairs to his bedroom. Mom wasn't home, but just in case, he closed his door and crossed the room to the far corner to his bed. He'd suffered enough embarrassment at the magazine stand, he didn't want anyone walking in on him while he paged through his purchase.

He reached into the shiny plastic bag and pulled out his very own copy of _Girl's World - The number 1 magazine for Japanese teenagers._ Hikaru flipped past the spring fashions and exercise guide to the "Idol of the Week" with its full page spread.

"Smart and Sexy" read the headline. Beneath it was Akira Toya dressed in baggy, skater fashion. The loud orange and green t-shirt hung loosely over the longer than shorts, shorter than pants bottoms. Not only was he wearing a baseball cap, but it was turned backwards. Even more out of character, the photographer had gotten Toya to make the victory symbol with his fingers, and to smile while doing it.

The remaining photos were portrait shots with Toya looking equally un-Toya like. Not that he looked bad. Hikaru was expecting a jump in middle-school girls at the next go exposition. Poor Toya, sucks to be you.

Waya had been waving the magazine around this afternoon, but Hikaru had felt uncomfortable looking too closely at it. It felt disrespectful, Not that Hikaru hadn't resolved to purchase the magazine and tease Toya unmercifilessly about it. But Hikaru had a history of irritating Toya, and it just didn't seem right for Waya to butt in.

Hikaru read the article carefully. The first part seemed mostly accurate, describing how Toya learned go from his father and how he went on to become a professional. He was quoted by saying that there was one particular player that pushed him on and Hikaru felt a rush of happiness.

The second half of the article was filled with question and answers factoids - birthday, blood type, favorite foods, etc. Apparently Toya was a closet fan of Little Nipster, enjoyed playing basketball and singing karaoke with his friends, and was eagerly awaiting the next installment of the Harry Potter series. Hikaru suspected that it hadn't only been Toya's wardrobe that had been modified.

The next bit of text was in pink:

_Q. Do you have a girlfriend? _

_A. No_

_Q. Why not? _

_A. Go takes up a lot of my time. Besides official matches, there's lots of expositions and tutoring. Also, I'm still attending high school and plan to take college entrance exams soon._

_And he's not really into women, _Hikaru thought. The article bothered him. It was irritating they way they invented a look and personality for Toya that had nothing to do with the person himself. It wasn't like the real Toya wasn't plenty interesting.

Hikaru continued reading.

_Q. If you did have a girlfriend, what would she be like? _

_A. I'd like someone with a lot of energy. A girl who's easy going about most things but also driven, someone who would challenge me and push me to be a better person. And it would be great if she could play go._

Hikaru was glad he hadn't stuck around for Waya's reading of the article. He already felt a bit red around the ears. Probably best not to bring up this article with Toya after all.

Hikaru took one last look at the photos before carefully closing the magazine and sliding it into his old math folder. No one would find it there.

* * *

Mitani Yuki watched from behind a trash can as Shindo Hikaru entered the restaurant. Finally after nearly a week of shadowing his old schoolmate, he had him right where he wanted him - alone, isolated, trapped. It had not been easy.

Yuki had been surprised by just how few places Shindo frequented. The Go Institute for matches, the community center where he did most of his teaching, and that posh go salon that you couldn't pay Yuki to enter. In his opinion go salons belonged in smoke-filled basements next to pachinko parlors. The main problem was that Shindo was usually with friends, and while Yuki wasn't afraid of Shindo's friends, especially that Toya guy he was always hanging out with, Yuki was itching for a one to one "discussion". Yuki had almost resorted to waiting for Shindo by his house, but he didn't want to risk Fujisaki seeing them.

He waited a few more minutes to give Shindo time to place his order before following him in. He found the half bleached head of hair right away, wedged into a corner between other ramen connoisseurs.

"Hey Shindo," Yuki called out in his best tough guy voice, "I'm challenging you."

"Guhg," said Shindo through the ramen noodles. He managed to slurp them up and swallow without choking before saying in a bit more articulate voice, "What?"

"A challenge." Yuki repeated, taking care to enunciate.

Shindo appeared clueless, and, given what Yuki knew of the guy, he probably was. But that still didn't excuse the fact that he'd broken Fujisaki's heart. For all of Yuki's bluster, he'd been in very few fights, but he felt this one was justified. In any case, it would certainly feel good to finally have it out with Shindo.

A huge grin spread across Shindo's face. "Sure, that would be great," _We'll see how well you smile after I get a few punches to your face._ Shindo turned to the large and, in Yuki's estimate, slovenly patron sitting beside him, halfway through what looked to be his fourth bowl of noodles, "You know any place round here?"

The patron gave Yuki a careful look, and nodded, "Sure, few blocks from here, it's up the alleyway."

"Great." said Shindo and in an amazing display of gluttony, finished up his bowl in one full slurp. A final noodle flicked against his nose before disappearing into his mouth and, despite having a perfectly good paper napkin dispenser on the table, he used his sleeve to wipe his face. What was it that Fujisaki saw in this guy? Shindo stood up and said, "Lets go."

There was a second slurp and Yuki realized that the fat guy was joining them. Great, not only was Shindo going to have backup, but the guy was built like a sumo wrestler.

They left the shop with Shindo happily leading the way. He still moved like a middle schooler, big steps counterbalanced by full motion arms. Not a care in the world.

Shindo's friend saddled up to Yuki and asked, "So, what's this all about?"

"It's a matter of honor." replied Yuki, to which the man nodded, and gave Yuki a more careful look. It felt like he was being sized up, like a racehorse.

It didn't matter, Yuki decided. This was a matter of honor, and Yuki was on the side of good. Even his sister, usually the great reconciler, had said that Shindo was in the wrong. She'd actually had a full out hissy fit about Shindo's cruel treatment of Fujisaki. According to Yaeko's boyfriend's roommate, Shindo had been a perfect oaf the entire date and then told Fujisaki he wasn't interested in her. Yaeko informed him that if he ever pulled such a stunt, she'd kick his butt. A proper gentleman waited until the next day to dump a girl, that way she had one perfect day. As he followed Shindo and the stranger, Yuki clenched his fists in anticipation.

Of course, Fujisaki still refused to condemn Shindo. According to her version of the story, the date was her idea and she'd known that it was a long shot, and it wasn't Shindo's fault. She kept coming back to that point. What about Shindo was so great anyway? Yuki figured a victory over Shindo would lower his status a bit.

They turned into an alley that wasn't nearly so unpopulated as Yuki would have liked and then the fat guy started walking into a dingy building. As Yuki followed down the stairs, he caught the familiar sound of tapping. Next he knew, he was in a go parlor.

"350 yen," Shindo said to him, "You got enough or do you need me to cover for you."

"What?" Yuki sputtered as he took in his location, "Why are we here?"

"We really couldn't play in the ramen shop, could we?" asked Shindo, "You did say you wanted to challenge me to a go game, didn't you?"

"I ... "

The grandma behind the counter smiled cheerfully up at them. "It's good to see young people taking up the game. Too many kids these days are only interested in those violent fighting video games." She held up the small coin tray. Not much choice but to pull out his wallet and pay.

Yuki was going to have to fall back to plan B, the one he hadn't made. He watched Shindo make himself comfortable at the table, setting up the board and checking the bowls. The movements were second nature, the boisterous teen replaced by a professional. This was Shindo's element, and the best Yuki could hope was to hold his own. At least he could give Shindo a piece of his mind.

"So, how good is he, Shindo-kun?" asked the fat man as they sat down, "How much of a handicap should you give him?"

"Umm," for the first time of the encounter, Shindo looked unsure, "Mitani-kun been playing in city competitions, so maybe 9 stones."

"Nine stones!" Now Yuki wanted to beat him up even more, "I've only lost to you once in my life Shindo."

"Really?" asked the man. He turned to Yuki, and gave him a more discerning look.

"Yah," Shindo admitted, "We were on the same middle school go team."

"You played on a team? I thought you were an Insei during middle school?"

They yammered on as Yuki placed his black stones on the board. It was embarrassing, but Shindo was a pro and Yuki was an experienced enough player to know what that meant. Still, nine stones would be a hard advantage to overcome, if he played smart, he should be able to keep it to a tie. After all, Shindo hadn't been a pro for that long, how good could he be.

Ten minutes later, Yuki had his answer. He'd watched helplessly as Shindo winnowed his lead to barely two stones. Intellectually, Yuki had known Shindo was good, but he'd never really admitted to himself what that meant. Now he was experiencing it first hand. At least Shindo wasn't being condescending or worse, going easy on him. Yuki's opponent was completely focused on the game. There were people who paid for such a privilege. _Masochists._

"How often did you guys play in middle school?" asked the fat guy, who's name Yuki had learned was Kurata.

"Every day." Said Shindo as he captured a set of stones. Now they were tied.

"And you only won once?" The disbelief was audible in Kurata's voice.

"I'm not that weak." snapped Yuki, "And besides, Shindo sucked back then. He was third chair at the competition."

"Oh, I heard about that," Kurata said, "But didn't he play well enough to beat the number 1 team, before they disqualified him for being too young?"

"No, I mean yes, that but time, but ..." This was idiotic, no worse, it was irritating. That people should know this much about Shindo's history. Like they were studying him, researching the future Meijin or whatever title Shindo would eventually capture. Fine, Yuki would fill them in.

"Look, this is how it went. That first tournament, Haze didn't even have a go team. It was just Tsuki, this psychopath Shoji guy and Hikaru playing third chair. Through some fluke, the team beat the team from Kaio 2 to 1 and would have won the tournament, but like you said, Shindo was only in grade school, so they got d.q'ed. Then, the next year, we went again. I played first chair, Tsuki second, and Shindo was third again, cause he was still the weakest player. And that year we got second because Kaio was all pumped up to play us and beat us all. Shindo only started to get good after summer break. And maybe if he'd stayed on the team, we might have finally beaten Kaio for real, only that's when he entered the Insei, which was the end of Shindo's amateur status."

Pa-ching. Shindo had laid down another stone. Yuki looked down at the board. It was over, Shindo had won the game.

Kurata was nodding. "That sounds about right. About a year and a half to go from knowing nothing about the game to being a pro. Most pro's take a bit longer, but usually when things start clicking it all comes together, and of course you get to that point where you're not thinking about anything else."

"Well," insisted Yuki, "he still sucked at the beginning."

"Everyone sucks at the beginning."


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer - these are not my characters, this is not my world or set up, all credit, thanks and apologies go to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi._

_**Chapter 5**_

His mother was in the kitchen when Hikaru came home from the go match with Mitani. It was still a few hours to dinner, but she liked to putter there, in much the same way that Hikaru liked to lay down go stones absent mindedly. He sat down on a stool until she noticed him.

"What is it Hikaru?" his mother asked, as she glanced at him briefly before returning to the cupboard she was rummaging through.

"Um," he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted, much less how to phrase it, "Do you remember when I started playing go?"

"Hmm," His mother stood up and put her hand to her chin, "Nowadays, it seems like you've always played go. But I do remember how when you were in grade school, I couldn't get you to sit still for two minutes. Even when you were watching television, it was up and down and behind and over the couch." She turned around and ruffled his hair, like he was 12 again, and not 18. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach his head.

"Still, I started taking those local go classes when I was still in grade school, right?"

"Oh yes. End of sixth grade. About a week after you fainted and were sent to the hospital. You suggested it all on your own. I remember calling the doctor to see if this sudden behavior change was something to worry about."

That matched his memories. His newly acquired ghost Sai was so distressed by not being able to play go that he was making Hikaru physically sick; attending classes at the local center was the only way to keep his lunch down. Looking back, the classes had been very basic, covering the vocabulary of the game as well as some beginner go problems. Hikaru hadn't been terribly studious, but he had been exposed to elementary strategies before running into Kimihiro and Kaga at the festival.

"And I must have learned a bit from Granddad before that." he prompted.

"No." his mother shook her head in a distracted, but certain way, "He wanted to start playing with you before you started kindergarten, but those stones were a choking hazard and I put my foot down. He wasn't allowed to let you get near a board until you stopped putting things in your mouth. And by then, well your personality was such that he didn't think it was worth the bother."

Hikaru remembered the first time he challenged his grandfather to a game, for money no less. He had been certain with Sai on his side that he'd easily win, but he hadn't even known how to count out the grid pattern and his grandfather had sent him packing. Kurata was right, everyone sucks at the beginning.

His mother continued:

"Even when you were taking the classes, you weren't what I'd call serious. The first couple of sessions you were dismissed early for playing practical jokes. It seemed a waste of money to send you, especially since you seemed to know enough to play with children your own age."

The look that crossed her face was a familiar one to Hikaru - resignation covering bewilderment. And there was something more - like when the old go players, the ones past their twenties, would reminisce about games they had played - nostalgia.

"You mean Kaga and Kimihiro-sempai?"

"The middle school go club? No, before that. I remember you telling me how you'd finally met a go player your age, and how you beat him."

"No," Hikaru shook his head, "That had to be later. I couldn't have played Toya ... It had to be after the middle school go club. Only ..." He tried to order his memories of that time. Met Sai, lost to granddad, started classes, beat Toya, school festival, - No, it couldn't have happened that way. But it must have.

"Perhaps," his mother's attention was wandering to the refrigerator. She'd be cooking dinner shortly. "You know me, Hikaru, I really don't understand the first thing about go. Even now."

* * *

There were times when even Toya Akira grew tired of go. They were rare, and never against a true opponent, but they did occur. And today, five hours into a go exposition where the promised lunch had turned out to be potato chips and an orange beverage that tasted of sugar, was one of those times. Akira suspected his irritation had less to do with the participants than the presence of Shindo to his right. They'd barely exchanged five words to each other the entire morning, and Akira was certain that it wasn't just their busy schedules.

Lately Shindo's manner had been off. Not moody or irritated, but distant and thoughtful. Akira wondered if he was working out a game in his head. If he was, Akira would bet that Shindo was losing.

"Thank you very much for the game, Sensei."

Akira's opponent's head bobbed up and down so fast he worried the twelve year old might get whiplash. He had been an eager, if not very talented, student. As with most large go promotional exhibitions, you could find yourself tutoring anyone from absolute beginner up to a potential professional.

"And ..." Prompted his mother, who had been sitting behind him the entire tutoring game.

"It's a real honor to play a game with you. We have your father's books at our house. And I've learned a lot, just from this half hour."

"We just can't keep Saburo away from the board, he practices so much." The mother beamed, although Akira wasn't sure if it was from her son's go abilities or well expressed gratitude. She turned to her second son, who appeared to be a year older, but was dressed identically, "And you should thank Shindo-sensei, Jiro-kun"

"Thanks." Jiro was frowning at the square off stone arrangement, "I thought I'd have at least three more mokus."

"You did," replied Shindo in a more professional voice than Akira was used to, "I got four more territories in the endgame. The more experience you get, the better you'll be able to catch that."

"I need to practice more. Sorry to have wasted your time, Sensei." The scowl on the boy's face did nothing to improve his features.

"Jiro -" his mother gasped, but Shindo cut her off.

"It's not fun losing, but the stronger your opponent is, the more you can learn. Here, I'll write down the game so you can study it later."

Jiro looked doubtful, but he took the recorded game before he was whisked away by his mother. "We must be going," she said, "We have baseball camp after this. The boys are just so talented in baseball."

When it was guaranteed that the family was out of earshot, Akira turned towards Shindo and said, "That was scary."

"Downright creepy," Shindo nodded, "I never really appreciated my mother's ignorance of go." He smiled in his easy going manner and Akira found his own mood lifting as well.

"You handled your pupil well," He complimented Shindo, "I owe so much of my ability to the games I lost to my father."

"Yeah, I can't even count how many games I lost to ..." And just like that, Shindo retreated to his cocoon. "That was my last person," he said in a factual manner, "I think I'll go grab a drink. Do you want anything?"

"Water would be nice. I still have two sessions. If you don't mind waiting. I hear the organizers have real food for us for dinner. Or we could could just grab some ramen."

"I ..." Shindo didn't meet his eyes, "I should probably be getting home."

Akira was set to protest, it was only a Sunday afternoon. But Shindo had already raced off.

That confirmed it, thought Akira, Shindo was avoiding being alone with him - ever since he'd had his "date" with Fujisaki almost a month ago. Akira wasn't sure how to broach that subject. He was ticked off that Shindo hadn't told him about it, and frustrated that he couldn't mention it without admitting to spying on the couple. Had Akira not seen the date's conclusion, he would have concluded that Shindo was in love and reluctant to break the news. The whole situation akin to walking with a pebble in your shoe, a low level irritation that he should be able to ignore.

To distract himself, Akira looked at his next teaching opponent. "Kiyoshi Takahara" - quite the distraction.

"Toya-sensei." a tall, well groomed, young man greeted him with a small bow, the formality of which was balanced by knowing smile.

"Takahara-san, it's good to see you again." Akira replied. It wasn't precisely a lie.

Akira had been Kiyoshi's regular tutor over a year ago. They had parted on mostly amiable terms, and really, it had been a most beneficial relationship. Kiyoshi's games and technique had improved dramatically, and Akira had learned ... a lot. The way Akira saw it, everyone had to have a first. He was grateful for all that Kiyoshi had given him, but most grateful that in the end Kiyoshi had let him go.

"Likewise," Kiyoshi sat down at the board. "I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty, it's probably best if we go back to the six stones handicap."

It would be a teaching game, then. If Akira had any guilt left over from their time together, it would be that he never played Kiyoshi at full strength. If Kiyoshi had felt it odd that Akira had always won by less than 4 stones, he hadn't mentioned it.

"Would you like to warm up with a practice problem first?" asked Akira.

"You know I haven't the patience," said Kiyoshi, taking the bowl of black stones. His smile, which Akira had found mesmerizing before, seemed a bit toothy now.

They played in silence.

"You are rusty," Akira finally allowed himself to observe, "Haven't you been practicing?"

"Not much," admitted Kiyoshi, "Right after we parted, I threw myself into the game with an unbelievable amount of determination - quite against my nature as I'm sure you'd guess. I was given to a fancy that I was still young enough to make it to pro, or at least make it to the final round."

"I never saw your name on the listings."

"I entered a local city competition first. Scored quite respectfully, probably owing to your fine instruction. But, it was obvious, I needed to improve significantly to place. And the professional examination, that was a paper dream, nothing more."

"Recognizing one's strength in the game, is a skill in itself, and an advance one at that." conceded Akira. So, Kiyoshi had learned limits of his abilities.

Akira knew he should respect the man for his acceptance of this fact. And yet, at the beginning of their courtship, Akira had also harbored a secret dream of Kiyoshi's game blossoming.

It wasn't unheard of. Weekly Go had written a profile of Shindo Hikaru that claimed just such an overnight transformation. An initially unremarkable player who absorbed strategies and tactics with each game, his current skill was only realized as he strived for the next level. The article had been very complementary, and wrong. But then, only Akira had seen the young Shindo's true strength. Even now, he wasn't sure what those first two games had meant.

"I think my biggest problem," Kiyoshi was saying, "is that while I enjoy the challenge of the game, I don't love it. Not the way you do, Sensei. And, consequently, I moved onto other things."

Akira pulled his mind back to the present "Do they bring you happiness?"

"For a time. I must admit, however, when I saw you were tutoring for the exposition, my interest in go was rekindled. I was wondering, if I might persuade you to take up as my tutor again?"

Kiyoshi leaned forward, as if to study the board. As he shifted his weight, his leg came in contact with Akira's own.

"I try not to take too many pupils," said Akira.

"Yes, I remember you wanted more time to focus exclusively on the game."

Akira suppressed a grimace. Had he really used such cold language when they ended their relationship? Still, it had been true, he had felt his game stagnating. Or, perhaps it had all been one big psychological metaphor - the game for their relationship or their relationship for the game. Whatever it was, Akira had no intention of honoring Kiyoshi's request.

Noting Akira's expression, Kiyoshi rushed to say "It wouldn't have to be a great commitment on your part. Once a month, not even that when you're involved in a serious tournament. I'll take what ever you are willing to give. I won't be demanding, I promise."

Kiyoshi's fingers lightly brushed Akira's hand while catching his gaze. Kiyoshi had the softest eyes of anyone Akira had met, and as always, it was hard to look away. In his peripheral vision, Akira caught a note of blond. He shifted his focus to catch Shindo taking in the scene. He held a paper cup of water in each hand.

Akira pulled his hand back, probably making the physical contact to Kiyoshi even more obvious. Shindo said nothing. He gave a curt nod as he placed the two cups on the table. Then, before Akira could break the uncomfortable silence, Shindo turned and strode out of the room.

"Another pupil?" Akira heard Kiyoshi call after him. But his focus was on Shindo, just disappearing through a door marked Exit. Akira followed into the dimly lit stairwell. Below him, footsteps echoed.

"Shindo," he called out and was rewarded by quickly receding footsteps. Nothing to do but race after him - they were only, what, twelve stories up?

"Shindo!" Akira tried again as he used his grip on the handrail to pivot about the landing and on to the next set of steps. "This is silly. One of us is going to trip and sprain an ankle. How's that going to look in Go Weekly?"

It was downright ridiculous, in fact. He'd have to take the stairs two at a time if he even hoped to catch Shindo.

And catch Shindo he must. As certain as if they were engaged in a game, Akira knew that he couldn't let this moment slip away. The look Shindo had given him as he put down the cup of water wasn't shocked or confused, it was resigned. No, worse, it was decisive. Concerning their relationship, or potential relationship, Shindo had made his decision. As part of that decision involved taking extreme pains to avoid Akira, it obviously wasn't the resolution that Akira desired.

It takes two to play a game, and, Akira promised himself, Shindo wouldn't be the only one to decide. That was it, think of it as a game. Akira knew how to win a game against his rival. It took cool rationality, decisive action, and underhanded tricks.

Akira brought his foot down with extra force. As the thud reveberated in the stairwell, he let out a loud "Oww!" The footsteps below him stopped abruptly, and then sped up as Shindo retraced his steps. His head appeared above the landing and halted to survey the scene. Akira stood up straight and met Shindo's eyes.

"Jerk." Shindo said simply.

"It got you here," replied Akira, "Why were you running away? Did seeing me with Takahara-san bother you that much?"

"The guy at the table?" said Shindo in an attempt at an offhanded manner, "It isn't any of my business who you're involved with."

An elaborate plan using jealousy to get Shindo to admit his true feelings formed in Akira's mind. He rejected it, best to be honest "We're not involved, Shindo."

Shindo raised an eyebrow.

"We were involved," Akira continued, "but not for a while. And, before you say anything, my feelings for you had nothing to do with our breakup." As soon as he made the statement, Akira began to doubt. He had been obsessed with Shindo for a long time.

" wasn't asking," asserted Shindo, but added, "So, why did you break up?"

"I needed more time to focus on my go." It was the truth, mostly. "I can't afford to let myself get distracted. I don't want to let you down - as a rival."

Shindo looked torn. Akira's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his voice steady as he spoke the next words.

"And as a friend, I don't want to let you down."

"As a friend." Shindo repeated.

Akira took a step towards Shindo, "I need to know Shindo, will we ever be anything more than friends." Was he being too forward? Would Shindo bolt?

Shindo stayed put, but he looked away and didn't speak. Akira could see his lips twitching. He waited, hoping for acceptance, terrified of an official rejection. The determination in Shindo's eyes meant the decision had already been made and he was just looking for the words. After what felt like forever, he said:

"I like you, Akira." Akira, Shindo hadn't used his given name since they were children. But there nothing warm in the way Shindo said his name. There was sadness, perhaps even regret. And Akira knew, Shindo's decision was not the one he'd wished for.

Once more, Akira tried to keep all emotion from his face. He'd known from the moment he'd confessed his feelings that there was only the slightest chance that Shindo would recipocate. He'd promised himself that he would accept rejection graciously. This way, at least, they could continue their friendship.

Shindo continued in that same low tone, "I just don't like you in way you like me. And you deserve someone to like you in that way."

Akira had heard those words before. And, as he placed them, something inside of him snapped. "That's the same rejection speech you used on Fujisaki-san," Forget gracious, Akira was not going to be brushed off by lines probably cribbed from some comic book. "exactly the same! Is it too much to ask for something original, like, I don't know, 'Sorry, I'm straight'?"

"How did you know about Akari?" Shindo's face was bright red, although Akira couldn't tell if it was from shock or embarrassment. In his anger, he hoped it was both.

"I was spying on you," Akira admitted. Realizing how juvenile it sounded, he added, "I didn't mean to, it just sort of happened."

His red, hot anger used up with his initial outburst, Akira now felt merely peeved. Shindo was dead still and Akira found himself talking to fill the silence.

"It got my hopes up, when you turned her down." Now he was the one who didn't dare make eye contact. So he stared just to the right of his shoulder. "I guess I read the situation incorrectly. I thought that if it wasn't her, it could be me." Akira stole a glance at Shindo, he looked miserable. Good. He let his words twist the knife, only somewhat justifiying that it was for Shindou's own good. "I didn't consider the possiblity that it might be no one, that you'd decide just to shut everyone out."

Shindo had taken a step towards him now; Akira hoped he wouldn't hit him. "It's your life, so do whatever you want. But I don't think it will make you happy." Shindo was right in front of him now. "What do I know - "

His words were cut off by Shindo's lips pressing against his.

Because Akira hadn't been looking, he wasn't quite sure how Shindo had managed to grab his head. He hadn't yanked his face down, so, reasoned Akira, he might be on his tiptoes in order to have that leverage. It would be just like his rival to pick such an inconvient moment to liplock him, Akira had completely lost his train of though. Or maybe it was because Shindo's technique had improved singifigantly in the last month.

And that's when it really hit him. Shindo was kissing him. Here, on a public stairway, of his own will, after telling Akira that he wasn't interested in relationship. Akira knew it was crucial to respond. But how.

The part of his mind that was observing the situation in a somewhat analytical fashion noted that his lips were starting to feel sore from the amount of pressure that Shindo was applying to their kiss. And could Shindo's cheeks be wet?

Akira decided he would raise his right hand to hold the back of Shindo's head first, then he'd start returning the kiss. But before he could initiate his plan, Shindo and taken a step back, turning his head so Akira couldn't catch his expression, he sprinted down the stairs. Leaving Akira standing on the landing, listening to footsteps that ended with the gentle thud of a door.

After that, Akira supposed he was alone.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer - these are not my characters, this is not my world or set up, all credit, thanks and apologies go to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi._

**Chapter 6**

Hikaru took the stairs two at a time using the railing to swing through the landings. At first there was an urgency to his pace, in case Akira followed him. But by the time he reached the third floor, with no telling footsteps behind him, Hikaru had to admit - it was elation that fueled his mad dash. Elation and relief. The weight that had been dragging him down for almost a week, had dissipated. It was like a risky gambit in go, he felt so exposed until it had successfully trapped his opponent.

Except, Hikaru hadn't planned his confrontation with Akira. _Guess it was just idiot's luck._

Regardless of how it had come about, Hikaru had officially told Akira no. Perhaps he was finally getting the hang of this whole relationship thing. So maybe the "You deserve someone better" excuse that he'd come up with for Akari hadn't worked so well. But the goodbye kiss seemed to calmed Akira down. Toya - he corrected himself, not that it mattered what he called his friend in his own mind.

Friends. Hikaru was pretty sure their friendship was still intact. Ak- Toya had been yelling at him, and he'd only have done that if he thought Hikaru was worth getting angry over.

Still the words he'd shouted had hurt. It must seem, from Toya's perspective, that Hikaru was naive, or worse, cruel. But that was a good thing; it meant Toya didn't suspect. And Hikaru wanted Toya to remain ignorant for as long as possible. He didn't want his friend's pity. For as long as possible, Hikaru resolved, he would remain strong. He would live his life without regrets. He would continue to play go, until . . .

He wasn't going to think about that.

Hikaru steered his thoughts elsewhere. He had the rest of the day to do whatever he liked. He could eat ramen, or stop by a random go salon. He could head over to Waya and Isumi's place, or wander through a bookstore and check out the comics. So many possibilities. Hikaru entered the train station. He could do anything, now that he wasn't all tied in knots about what to do about Akira.

Quite a relief really.

Then why did he find himself getting off at Toya's stop? Why did he walk the way up to Toya's apartment? Why did he stand outside the door, wondering if he dared knock?

* * *

_Don't think about Hikaru._ Akira willed himself. Not his weird behavior, not his pitiful rejection, not his impromptu kiss . . . well, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to ruminate a bit on their kiss. What it lacked in finesse, it made up for in passion and intensity. Given Hikaru's lack of relationship experience, it appeared that go was not the only venue where he was a fast learner. Whatever its meaning, the execution meant that Hikaru couldn't be one hundred percent heterosexual.

"Toya-sensei?" It was one of the exposition's organizers. His tone was a mix of concern and irritation. Clearly Toya had missed a question. He looked up from his barely touched dinner, rubbery chicken and vegetables, and said:

"Pardon? I'm terribly sorry, but I didn't catch what you said?"

"I was inquiring on how your teaching games went."

"Oh, they all went quite well," Save for his game with Kiyoshi, winning by fifteen stones was hardly instructive and the one that followed - Akira couldn't even remember the pupil's face.

He must have had a pained expression, because the organizer next inquired whether Akira was feeling alright. Knowing not to pass up such an out, Akira hastily confirmed that he was not his best, and was making his farewells before anyone could call him a cab. He wanted some fresh air to clear his head.

It didn't work. If anything his thoughts were more muddled as he climbed the stairs to his apartment.

All he'd resolved was that he would allow himself to refer to his rival as Hikaru, at least in his own thoughts. After all, Hikaru had gone back to a first name basis.

"Hikaru." he spoke the words aloud enjoying the sound. And then he almost fell back down the stairs as someone jumped out of the shadows.

"Hikaru?" Akira said again, staring at his rival. Hikaru had a dazed look, like someone roused from deep thoughts, or sleep.

"I was . . . um . . ." Hikaru mumbled.

A moment of tortured silence followed. Hikaru was looking everywhere but Akira's direction. Perhaps he was in search of an escape route. Too bad, short of jumping over the third story's railing, the only exit was behind Akira. Akira took a step forward; Hikaru too a step back.

"Would you like to come in?" asked Akira as he unlocked the door.

Hikaru didn't look certain and so Akira simply left the door open behind him. Hikaru followed him in.

What a lost, confused look he had. Like he wanted to bolt but had forgotten how. Akira wondered if he said the wrong thing and scared him off, if he'd be treated to another goodbye kiss. Best not to mention the day's earlier confrontation.

"I have a gift for you." He said simply, "Nothing fancy, just a copy of a book my father wrote an essay for."

Akira removed his shoes at the entrance and changed into his house slippers. The book, with its unsurprising black and white circle pattern cover lay on a nearby end table.

"Is it about go?" asked Hikaru, He looked somewhat mollified.

"Not exactly, it's more life philosophies by go players. My father doesn't see how it could sell, but he contributed to it anyway. The party I invited you to was sort of an informal release party."

Mention of the skipped party, and by implication, the Fujisaki date, caused the skittish look to return. Akira added quickly, "There's some historical writing in it as well, including one short piece by Honibo Shusaku."

The look on Hikaru's face went from polite confusion to hunger. He all but snatched the book out of Akira's hands.

"Chapter 3." Akira said as Hikaru flipped though the pages. He might as well have been invisible. Hikaru, infamous for only reading comics and go books was already engrossed in the essay. His lips were moving as he read. He pause at the end of the first page and looked guiltily at Akira.

"I can read it later. Thanks." His eyes strayed back to the page.

"Go ahead," urged Akira, "Enjoy." There was a momentary hesitation on Hikaru's part, and then he plunged back into the chapter. Akira went into the kitchen and made tea. When he returned, Hikaru was still engrossed in the essay, but paging back and forth as if looking for something. When he saw Akira, he put the book down and accepted the tea.

"How did you know I was interested in Shusaku?" He asked.

"I'd have to be a very inattentive rival not to notice." replied Akira, "Your bookcase is filled with his games and biographies. You collect any Shusaku memorabilia the Institute's gift shop sells. And then there was the time we shared a train compartment with Kuwabara-sensei. I was amazed at how you were so unusually attentive while he lectured us nonstop about the Honinbo family and Shusaku's place in history."

"Oh," said Hikaru. His cheeks blushed slightly.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed by," said Akira, "He was arguably the game's most brilliant master. A lot of players idolize him." They don't necessarily absorb aspects of Honinbo's style like Hikaru did, but that was more from their lack of talent.

"Idolize? Yeah, I suppose . . ." there was something more that Hikaru wanted to say. Whatever it was, Akira suspected it was important. He dared not say the wrong thing, so he said the one thing that could never be wrong.

"Would you like to stay for a game of go?"

A real smile spread on Hikaru's face and in a completely natural way, they took out the board and set up. No words needed to be spoken, they'd been playing each other for so long.

Akira's apartment was above average size by Tokyo standards. This meant that in addition to the large living space and separate kitchen, he had a small tatami matted bedroom in the back. Every morning, Akira made sure to pack away his futon, converting it into his go room. The elegant legged go board he received as a housewarming gift from his parents was installed in the center, with pillows, and even a electric kettle for brewing tea.

They didn't bother to nigiri, Hikaru simply chose black to Akira's white. They proceeded with a standard opening set of moves. Akira realized that he was taking comfort in the established patterns, not wanting to be the one to initiate a confrontation. Hikaru, he suspected, was doing the same. But eventually through small variations, the game grew into its own unique self, and just as Akira was beginning to lose himself in its intricacies, Hikaru spoke:

"Idolizing Susaku is probably an understatement. When I was still in grade school, I used to pretend that Honibo's ghost was my friend, teaching me how to play go. Or, rather, I used to pretend that there was an even older ghost who haunted Honinbo first, and was now haunting me. I had this elaborate story about how my ghost was a court go instructor during the Heian period and he was betrayed and kicked out. When he couldn't play go anymore, he committed suicide. Only I could see and hear him. He had these long white robes and one of those silly pointed hats. I called him Sai."

Crack, Akira gracelessly placed his go stone. It took all his nerve to keep his hand steady. This hadn't been the confession he'd been anticipating. In fact, he'd long ago resigned himself that he'd never know the secret of the mysterious Sai. Given a choice, Akira would have to admit that this was the mystery about Hikaru that he was most interested in solving - guess he wasn't a romantic after all.

Pa-chink. Hikaru had placed his next stone. Not any expected location, in fact, it didn't make sense. Like Hikaru's confession. So what if Sai was a figment of Hikaru's imagination, it didn't explain the internet games, or their first game, or-

Cutting through Akira's thoughts, Hikaru spoke and his voice had a warm quality, like someone reminiscing about a beloved childhood friend. "Sai loved go, more than you and me and all the current title holders combined. He had to because that was what kept him tied to this world, the chance to keep playing go. His goal was to play the divine move, the perfect game. That's why he'd haunted Shusaku and then me."

"So, Sai was your imaginary friend?" Akira did his best to keep the skepticism from his voice. The Hikaru he'd known as a child didn't seem the sort to invent such a poetic and depressing character, much less have him as a companion.

"No one in my family is interested in go," Hikaru continued, "except for my grandfather, and back then, I was too hyperactive for him to want to play with me. So, I guess I invented Sai to be a go mentor, to justify my interest and to push me."

"A mentor can be a valuable thing," admitted Akira. He'd often been curious how Hikaru's go had flourished given his parents' apparent lack of knowledge or even basic awareness of the game. "I owe my father not just for the technical teaching, but for the love of go that inspired me."

Hikaru nodded and continued. "There was always someone who was a better player than me. But Sai was better than everyone. When I played especially well, when I came up with a new attack or defense, I'd attribute it to him. At least that's how it makes sense, only . . ."

Pa-chink, And that was the critical move to Hikaru's earlier one, the snaring of the trap. If Akira let it be, it would catch him later. In a normal Hikaru game, Akira would force himself to evaluate the potential patterns for at least ten minutes. But this was a game he would willingly lose, if only Hikaru would keep talking.

"Only, that's not way I remember it." Hikaru's eyes were blazing with intensity, and for once it was not focused on a go board. "I remember watching Sai play games, hearing him dictate the moves and placing the stones at those positions. With you, the first two times we played, at a middle school tournament when I was still in sixth grade, on the internet before I became an Insei, and again with your father, after his heart attack. There's no way I could have won those games, but ..."

"But you did." finished Akira. This wasn't the explanation he was expecting. He'd always suspected that Hikaru had access to a go master, someone much like Akira's father, who had challenged Hikaru on a daily basis, providing the fuel for his incredible learning curve. A master with such skill would have to play at the professional level and the only person who remotely fit the profile was Kuwabara Honinbo.

Kuwabara was not only an eccentric who liked to claim spiritual sensitivities but also a cynical old man who cherished sowing uncertainty. To secretly groom his successor, and release him as an unknown into the go world was precisely his style. And with a young protegee to assist him, Kuwabara could easily get in a game or two of internet go. Only ... Akira had played Kuwabara, studied his games - his style was nothing like Sai's. And Hikaru had been alone for those first two games.

"When I look at it, logically," said Hikaru, "I know it's impossible. So I didn't think too much about it, figured I got the order of the games confused, or I had some sort of miraculous insight, or maybe I just imagined the whole thing."

Akira knew the feeling. There were so many times after that horrible school tournament, where Akira tried to attribute his earlier losses against Hikaru to his own overconfidence, or self doubts, or blurry recollections. But then he would replay the games, and there could be no doubt. He had been playing a master.

A chill began to creep up his neck. As a Shintoist and a Buddhist, he believed in ghosts and spirits of the dead. But it was an abstract belief. What Hikaru was talking about was impossible.

"But I didn't imagine it." Hikaru voice was now barely above a whisper. "The only thing that comes even close to being conceivable is that I already had learned how to play go, and I repressed it, or ... something."

"Something?" That, too, sounded ominous. Akira had forgotten their game, although Hikaru was still staring at it as if it would yield the answer.

A whole lifetime ago, a kid with a bleached blond streak had wandered into Akira's father's go parlor, played one game, then another, rattling Akira to his very core. And, part of him suspected, he'd never truly regained his balance. At least not where Hikaru was concerned. He'd pinned all his hopes on the chance that maybe someday, Hikaru would explain himself. But this was no explanation, it was just more mystery.

Hikaru placed a black stone on the board. When Akira didn't respond, he placed another, this one white. Akira steeled himself. What was he going to say if Hikaru claimed he saw dead people?

But then, in typical Hikaru style, he took a completely different tack, leaving Akira to play mental catch-up.

"Isumi's girlfriend's taking this class about crazy people and she's got this huge textbook. I was looking through it the other night." Another black stone on the board. Hikaru took a deep breath and looked firmly into Akira's eyes as he said, "I think I may have schizophrenia."

"What?" Akira's mind raced to place the disorder. The famous American shoji player who wore tinfoil hats to stop the government from hearing his thoughts sprang to mind. He tried to laugh, but it got caught in his throat.

"Or maybe multiple personality disorder," Hikaru added, "I didn't read that chapter, the schizo description was bad enough. It really starts around twenty and it's not just hallucinations and hearing voices. There's paranoia and delusions and withdrawal and brain damage. A lot of homeless people have it - you know, the ones that scream on street corners. They-"

"You're not crazy, Hikaru!" Akira broke in. So what if he'd been almost thinking it? He hadn't meant it, not really. Hikaru could be mistaken, outright wrong even, but not sick. "You can't be crazy." He tried to make his voice as reassuring as possible, for both their sakes.

Hikaru didn't reply; he just sat there, laying down stone after stone. When Akira glanced at the game he saw that white had completely retaken control of the board. Such total domination could only happen if black had just given up.

Akira reached across the board, but no sooner had he touched Hikaru's hand than the other retracted it as if burnt. Stones skittered off the board.

"Sai talked to me, Akira!" He practically shouted, "I could see him. I could even feel his emotions. It wasn't my overactive imagination, it was real. Sai was real. He was real to me." It was the conviction, the dead certainty in Hikaru's voice that caused Akira to wince. "But I know that's impossible, so," The initial strength in Hikaru's voice had faded, "so, it means something's wrong with me. Really wrong. And, it's just going to get worse."

It wasn't only Hikaru's voice that had crumpled. He bent over, his whole body clenched, like that other time. The time Hikaru had quit go.

It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped. A go player learns to see patterns, even when they don't want to. When Hikaru got an idea into his head, whether it was true or impossible, he stuck with it. Right now, he was certain he had a mental condition that would destroy him. But whatever Hikaru's brain chemistry, it didn't matter. Hikaru was perfectly capable of destroying himself. Hadn't he been just about to do it, back then?

Back then, Akira shuddered at the memory. He hadn't truly understood why it had been so critical to convince Hikaru to return to the game. It wasn't until they'd played their first official match that Akira understood that he needed Hikaru as his rival, that no one, not the title holders, not his father, not even "Sai" of the internet, could engage him in this level of the game. Back then, he was blissfully ignorant. Had it been otherwise, he would have collapsed in misery the way Hikaru had then, the way Hikaru was now.

At the time, it was only his ego that had taken the blow. Even when he had been publicly shunning Hikaru, part of him had enjoyed the attention, the drama. It had been no small thrill to think that he, Toya Akira, was the goal that Hikaru was pursuing. Then suddenly, without warning, without explanation, Hikaru was finished - with go, with Akira. And no amount of begging or pleading could get him to return.

Same pattern, same pain.

No. Not this time, Akira vowed. He wasn't twelve and he now knew precisely why Hikaru was important to him. More critically, he knew what he would lose if Hikaru took all this misery and fear into himself, like he obviously wanted to. It didn't matter whether schizophrenia was the cause, it would eat away at him, until there was nothing left - no no rising go star, no charming but exasperating teenager, no Hikaru.

"But you're better now, right Hikaru?" asked Akira, hating the question. It was an acknowledgment that it was real, that there was something wrong with Hikaru's brain. He'd never get through to Hikaru by denying it. And, as much as the idea turned his stomach, it did came closer to explaining Hikaru than any of Akira's theories.

Hikaru shrugged, "Sometimes, when I play go, I can still sense him, in the games, in the moves. As I've gotten stronger, it happens more often. It almost always happens when I play you."

"Is that so bad?" _Really, _he wanted to chastise Hikaru,_aren't you making a big fuss over nothing?_

"Not really," something approaching a smile flitted across Hikaru's lips. "It's fine if it was just about me. But ..." He took a breath and Akira rushed in before Hikaru could offer another protest.

"So it's not a problem, Hikaru. Nothing has to change. We'll just go back to-"

"To where you call me Shindo, Toya." It was not a question. Hikaru was clear eyed, and his gaze held Akira's. "Because if we're just friends and rivals, then we can just go back to playing go. I'd like that, you know. I want to keep playing go with you, for as long as I can."

When Hikaru had been doubled over in grief, Akira had wanted to hold him. Now, collected and calm, turning down any possible relationship, Akira wanted to jump his bones. Everyday Hikaru was cute in a scruffy sort of way. Determined Hikaru was drop dead sexy.

"I don't want to be just friends and rivals, Hikaru." _And neither do you, _he didn't dare add. Otherwise, why the scene on the staircase, why show up here tonight, why reveal the truth about Sai?

"It's not going to last, Ak- Toya. I'll be twenty in a year and I don't know how long I'll be able to hold it together. It wouldn't be fair to put you through that." He was so certain of his condition. Despite himself, Akira had begun to believe it as well. But in that case, wouldn't Hikaru would need him even more?

"And I don't get any say in this decision?" Akira pressed. "You think it would be any easier for me to watch you fall apart if I was only a 'friend'?"

"Akira, you don't understand-"

"No, Hikaru, I don't. I want to, though. You've read one book chapter, self diagnosed yourself, and now are certain no one can help you." His words sounded like a cheesy intervention, but Akira pressed on. "You don't have to face this alone."

Hikaru was not won over, "You don't know what you're asking."

"There must be a treatment, Hikaru. A medical procedure, or drugs? Don't go jumping to conclusions about the rest of your life." _Our life_, he wanted to say.

"You think this is just a spur of the moment idea?" Hikaru demanded; he was angry now. Which was just fine by Akira, it meant he was winning. "I've been thinking about nothing else this past last month!"

"So that's why your game's gone downhill." It hadn't, but Akira wasn't above a calculated insult to win this fight.

"Well," Hikaru sputtered, "it's going to get worse, okay?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The treatment, if they cure me, what happens to my go? Don't you see," asked Hikaru, "Whatever Sai was, whatever my messed up brain chemistry, it's all tied to my go. Cure my disease and," he looked at Akira expectantly.

"And you lose your ability to channel Sai." concluded Akira. He hadn't even considered Hikaru's go.

"Maybe more. Maybe my whole style. Competition-wise, I don't know what I'd do. And I'd never be able play the divine move."

"But you'd be sane, Hikaru." said Akira as gently as possible, "You're more to me than your go. I love you, not your abilities." They were entering into girly comic territory here. But so help him, he meant every word.

"Don't lie, Akira," said Hikaru in a tone that would have shriveled any floating flower backgrounds.

It hurt, that Hikaru couldn't, wouldn't see how deep Akira's feeling ran. He had to make sure the other understood. "I want you Hikaru, not-"

"What about what I want?" Hikaru cut in. "If I can't play you without a handicap, if I have to watch you get further and further away, if you get a new rival ... I don't know what I'd do. Probably disappear like Sai."

What could Akira say to that? If their situations were reversed, wouldn't he feel the same? Watching from the sidelines, it would be a slow death for Hikaru. _Or a quick one_, he remembered Hikaru saying that Sai had committed suicide.

Such a little thing, go - an ancient game played by fewer and fewer people every year. It had brought them together, and now it would tear them apart. Once more, he'd been utterly defeated by Sai.

Despite himself, he laughed. It was a cold, mirthless little laugh and Hikaru joined in. The revelations were over, the arguments played out. Only time would prove Hikaru's theory. Akira would just have to wait. Wait, hoping every day that Hikaru was wrong, but treating every day, every match, like he was right.

"We'll just have to play as many games while we can," Akira said feebly. "As rivals."

"And friends." Hikaru answered, "But no more tonight." He attempted a smile, and added, "Akira."

"Of course, Hikaru." He'd lost enough today.

Hikaru started to stand, but stopped and took a deep breath:

"I ..." Hikaru began, "If it wasn't for this, mess in me, I think, maybe-"

"Don't," Akira cut him off, "I don't want one more thing to regret."

Hikaru silently nodded and this time he did stand. It's difficult to make a quick exit in a Japanese home. There are too many changes of footwear. At the edge of the tatami room, Hikaru had to change into his slippers, only to remove them five feet further at the apartment door. Akira could hear his sneakers squeaking as slipped into them.

Akira's eyes fell on the book of essays, forgotten under the go board. Without a thought, he picked it up and stood to follow Hikaru. That's when he heard the crash. He looked through his kitchen to see Hikaru, frozen in the act of opening the door. Nearly a foot away was the fallen picture frame.

"I didn't touch it." said Hikaru, more confused than defensive.

Akira crossed the room. He recognized the frame as the one that sat on the end table just outside of the foyer, it had been next to the book on go philosophies. The table was nowhere near Hikaru. Akira must have nudged the photo to a precarious position when he picked up the book earlier.

"Glass," warned Hikaru. Akira, in his stocking feet, stopped.

"I'll get a broom." He returned to find Hikaru gingerly removing the photograph from the broken frame. He was looking at it with puzzlement and Akira took the initiative to carefully sweep up the glass into a pile.

It was an old photo from when his parents were first married. They were standing in front of an impressive gate, dressed in their best. As a child, Akira had adored that photo and his mother had given it to him as one of the many housewarming gifts that coincided with her own house de-cluttering.

"Isn't that the Emperor's palace?" Hikaru asked, obviously recognizing the famous Tokyo landmark. "What does it mean, 'The stolen bride returns'?" He held up the back of the photo with its inscription. Akira instantly recognized his father's handwriting.

"Oh, it's a joke of my parent's. When she was very young, my mother met the Emperor, and Father used to claim the Emperor had been smitten by my mother."

"Akihito-sama?" said Hikaru, with awe in his voice.

Akira nodded as he dumped the collected glass into the trash. It was an amazing tale. As a child, he'd often asked to hear the story. Now the words rattled off his tongue:

"My mother's great uncle was an ambassador, for a while he was assigned to New Zealand. Anyway, he was close friends with the one of the prime ministers, I can never remember which, and once the entire family was allowed a private tour of the Tokyo palace. My mother was seven at the time, and somehow, she ended up getting lost. The servants were summoned and they looked everywhere. She was located at the palace's entrance. She said that a slightly older boy found her and led her there. The description she said matched that of the Crown Prince Akihito."

"Wow," Hikaru looked impressed. As he should, the royal family was isolated from the public and you had to be fairly well connected to even see them at special events.

"It wasn't him," Akira conceded. "It couldn't have been. One of the servants said that the royal family were all at Ise that week. So, some other boy must have helped her, although nobody could figure out who. My brothers used to tease her about it, even when she was older. They brought it up to my father when he and my mother started dating, telling him that he better keep an eye on her, because Akihito might show up any time. And then Uncle Moro related the whole story. Mother was horribly embarrassed. But," and Akira had to smile at his favorite part of the family story, "my father rose to my mother's defense. He said that any other girl might have imagined it, but for my mother, it was only natural that the emperor would want to meet her. Her version was the one that he chose to believe. My mother said that was the moment when she decided to marry him."

"Neat story." said Hikaru.

"Yes," Akira agreed, and then it hit him. "Hikaru," he said slowly, as he worked out the words. He had to get this right. "What do you believe, about Sai?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hikaru, his guard instantly up.

Carefully, so as not to raise his defenses any further, Akira asked, "Do you believe he was a delusional symptom of a disease, or do you believe he was real?"

"I believe in Sai," Hikaru said without a moment's thought, "But that just proves-"

"Then why can't I believe in Sai too?" asked Akira.

"Because," sputtered Hikaru, "because it's impossible. I mean, a ghost who plays go?"

"And it's less impossible," Akira countered, "to suppose that at the age of twelve you somehow had the abilities of a go master?"

"A lot of professional go players learn fast." Hikaru replied, "Look at-"

"Without ever playing a game?" Akira interrupted. "And why would you repress these abilities? Did you have a traumatic go experience as a five year old?"

"I didn't say my abilities made sense," said Hikaru, "But they are more likely than a thousand year old ghost."

"Hikaru, you played in Honinbo Shusaku's style. How do you explain that?"

"Maybe I read a book?" For the first time that night, Akira sensed doubt in Hikaru's voice. This was the right track.

"What caused your sudden interest in go in the first place? What caused you to walk into my father's go salon? The first game you beat me, the first time these repressed abilities surfaced, you were playing a teaching game. The next game you demolished me. How did you know that was what I needed as a player? Think back to the games Sai played, were they random sparks of go genius, or was there a reason Sai played them?"

Hikaru was looking at the floor, his head twitching, his fists balled. This wasn't anger, but concentration. Most likely, he was reviewing games. Akira gave him a moment before continuing.

"I believe in you, Hikaru. I believe in you as a go player. Not as some freak genius idiot savant who just happened to master the game, but as a player who's devoted his life to go. Every game you've played, you've pushed yourself to understand it. Every new level you've attained was the result of your hard work and dedication."

Carefully, as not to spook him, Akira reached out for Hikaru's hand. Turning it palm up, he gently traced Hikaru's finger tips. "Look at these," he said, "they're calloused from all stones you laid down. You played Sai every day, didn't you? Like I played my father. Don't you see, Hikaru, for you to exist, there has to be a Sai."

"But ..." Hikaru's lower lip was trembling.

"Why can't I believe in Sai?" Akira pressed. "Did he not want you to tell anyone about him?"

"No," said Hikaru, "Sai didn't care about that. He just wanted to play go." He gave a half laugh and shook his head, "He liked the times he played with you, Akira."

"I learned a great deal from those games." Akira said seriously.

"He-" Hikaru hiccuped, "He just wanted to play go." Another hiccup, and when Hikaru looked up, his face was wet. He smiled briefly as the sobs overtook him. There was no effort to contain them, it was only natural for them to fall. Just as it was natural for Akira to take him into his arms and hold him close. Far from protesting, Hikaru clung to him, as the sobs racking his body. Occasionally Hikaru would speak Sai's name. Otherwise they just stood there, holding each other, until Akira's feet went numb.

They ended up on the couch, side by side, Hikaru's head resting in the crook of Akira's shoulder, his arm gently stroking the others blond black hair. They didn't speak, it felt good just to sit there. Akira had lost track of time a while back.

At some point Akira bent over and kissed Hikaru's forehead. He did it without thinking, without a reason, without any thought to the implications. Hikaru said nothing, merely gave Akira a gentle smile. Still without thinking, Akira dropped his hand to catch Hikaru's chin. Hikaru lifted his head. Akira bent his. Their lips met. And the resulting kiss went on and on.

It was their fourth kiss, probably the point most couples have stop keeping count. But, Akira rationalized, he'd been drunk for their first, uncertain for their second, and completely unprepared for their third. Worst of all, none of those kisses had meant anything relationship-wise, at least nothing positive. Kiss number four however ...

He'd started thinking, dammit. And now Akira's brain was in high gear. The floodgates were open: logical conclusions, rational fears, significant implications, worst case scenarios poured in.

He drew back, his eyes still closed. He knew he had to look, to see the expression on Hikaru's face. Akira wasn't expecting adoration or love, uncertainty or nervousness were more likely. _Just don't let it be pity_, he thought as he opened his eyes. But Hikaru was just ... Hikaru - bright eyes and a lopsided smile.

"You're okay with this?" asked Akira. Now that he understood, and had accepted, Sai, a bond stronger than rivals, stronger than friends, had be formed between them. But if Hikaru was confused or uncertain, and Akira pressed on, it could easily be shattered.

"I guess," replied Hikaru. He stretched and shrugged. "I didn't stop you, did I?"

It took every ounce of Akira's self control not to pounce, but the rational part of his brain had to be certain, "So you've decided you're gay."

"I ..." Hikaru broke eye contact while Akira cursed his stupid rational brain. "I'm not sure. But I do know, that since Sai left, you're the most important person in my life, Akira."

With those words, Akira's heart just about stopped. But the more Hikaru insisted, the more Akira's doubt grew. Since the day they'd met, there had been so many misunderstandings. Now, there could be no more.

"Hikaru, this isn't about go." he said gently.

Hikaru let out a snort. "Everything is about go! At least with us." He silenced Akira's reply by touching his finger to the other's lips. "It's playing and stratagizing and analyzing go, even when it has nothing to do with the game. Admit it, when you read a book, or see people interact or organize your day, you think of it like go, right?"

"You mean do I resort using go analogies to understand and predict the world around me?" Asked Akira. Hikaru's finger was still against his mouth and the physical contact on his lips as he spoke the words was delightful. "Well, yes."

"Fancy words, but it means the same thing." Hikaru replied. He withdrew his finger, only to grab Akira's hands. _Did he have any idea of the effect this physical contact was having?_ "It's almost pathetic how obsessed we are, I'm sure it would drive anyone else crazy. But with each other," Hikaru took a deep breath, "At first, it weirder me out, you, and ... but then, when I started thinking about it ... it made sense."

Hikaru gave Akira's hands a reassuring squeeze, as if to say, trust me. The fear that had been gripping Akira's heart began to relax. Hikaru had a very unique view on what made sense. But then, so did Akira. He let Hikaru continue.

"Isumi-san told me relationships are about shared interests. And I'm interested in go. So what am I going to talk about with a girlfriend or a wife? What are we going to do together? I mean, I know some girls play go, but not like we play go. And it's the same with you. Even if you're into guys."

"So it's a practical matter?" asked Akira, "We're together because no one else will have us?" He kept his taunt gentle, curious to hear Hikaru's response.

"At first, yeah. I mean, when we're not screaming at each other, we're really good friends. And you're not ugly or smelly or anything, so I figured, why not. I was even going to tell you, only I kind of freaked out that there was something wrong with me."

"Promise me you'll stick to reading manga and books on go from now on." said Akira.

"Gladly," agreed Hikaru. "But, you know, it was only after I was completely convinced that we couldn't be anything more than friends and rivals, that I realized ... It hurt, Akira. Like when Sai left, only worse because you'd still be around and I wouldn't be able to tell you, that I ..."

His words trailed off and he squeezed Akira's hands again. They were both silent, waiting.

"I don't want to lose you Akira. Not as a rival, not as a friend, not as a partner. I want to play go with you, for the rest of our lives. I want to play the divine move with you. I want to be as close to you as I was to Sai, and since your actually physically here, well, I ..."

Hikaru's smile had gotten downright sheepish. Akira decided they'd done enough confessing. Kiss number five was even better than kiss number four. And six was yet another improvement. Seven surpassed them all. Akira stopped counting somewhere around ten.

* * *

**Authors notes:**

Hi everyone, Thanks for all your lovely comments. It's been a pleasure to read them. Thanks also for your patience for the rather long time it's taken me to complete Endgame. It's not completely over, I've got an idea for a short epilogue ( 1000 words) but I'm not sure when I'll get around it (I think I need a break from Hikaru and Akira, their cute, but demanding) For all intents and purposes you can consider Endgame complete.

This last chapter came out longer (it's nearly 1/4 the story) and a bit different than I originally planned for. Akira was going to be more in control of the conversation and the schizophrenia explanation was weaker. I looked at my initial write up and thought, it needs more "emotional rollercoaster-iness" And then, after exposing you to all that angst, I needed to make the last two pages worth it - I mean between chapter 5 and the rest of chapter 6, you kind of deserved it. I didn't want it to be too sappy, or too pat. I had to be more than just a "They kissed, the end" but after the whole Sai resolution, it just didn't seem like anyone had the energy (myself included) to be terribly emo or arguative and I wasn't going to up the rating of the story with a sex scene (sorry, it just seemed like it would be rushing it, and I don't have enough experience to write it) Anyway, after glaring at it for a week, I finally got those last two pages written, and am very happy with the results.

Sorry to go on with these notes, but I've gotten a lot of compliments on my writing style and I thought people would be interested in seeing the thought process that goes into it. Mostly its write, rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, etc.

While I won't be posting any HnG for a while, I do have shojo web comic (I'm the writer). If you like my writing style and the way I handle relationships, you should check it out. It's called Of Two Minds, ( http://of2minds. ) and it's about telepathic twins that are separated for the first time in their lives. They need to learn how to live without being in constant communication with each other. The artist Allie, is do a wonderful job, it's so pretty, and we update every Friday.

Thanks again for all the comments.


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